


Underneath the Too-Sunny Sky

by MakaS0ul



Series: Underneath the Too-Sunny Sky [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Based on a song, F/F, Freezerburn - Freeform, Old-timey speaking style, or at least that's the goal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-05-28 07:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15043736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakaS0ul/pseuds/MakaS0ul
Summary: The village has been in a drought, and thus I must sing my prayers to the heavens. There are many sides to the story in the village underneath the too-sunny sky.





	1. Haresugita Sora no Shita de

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Haresugita Sora no Shita de](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/391685) by Akiko Shikata. 



> Wrote this for my birthday a few months ago and forgot to post it here. It's based off a song called Haresugita Sora no Shita de (Underneath the Too-Sunny Sky) by Akiko Shikata. I have a couple of things planned for this song, so you can consider this "Part I: Side A." It'll make more sense when I publish the rest. Enjoy~!

The earth is cracked beneath me, the soil and pebbles red beneath my dry, cracking feet. They dig into the skin that has long-since forgotten what moisture feels like, but it does not matter; I had stopped feeling them cut into my skin long ago.

  
Above me, the blue sky is beautiful, almost to an ill-suited extent. It reminds me of the spring that had once been plentiful, quenching our thirst year after year. And yet, it dried long ago. Everything that had given us water has dried long ago.

  
I sing a song in a loud voice, wrenching my parched throat as I call out day after day for rain. It is my job after all. I am a priestess, whose job is to ask the gods for blessings, for that which will allow us to keep living. And yet they do not seem to hear me.

  
But I continue to sing and wait for the arrival of rain.

  
The well has dried up, those same red pebbles the only thing remaining inside. The palm tree that had been planted on the day I was born is withering, just like me. We are both a shell of our former selves, but unlike the palm, I can try to change the fate of my people. And thus, I sing.

  
I have checked over the fields, which now resemble a desert more than the grassy plains they had once been. It seems the flowers that once grew beneath the sunlight will die very soon as well. I cannot give them water, because there is no water left to give. What little we have goes to the people of the village. Sadly, my tears are insufficient as water.

  
I sing out once again, O sun, O light of Apollo, disappear before the twilight. O winds and clouds, bring the rain, and pour down onto this body!

  
And yet there is nothing.

  
No matter how much I sing, no matter how much I pray, still nothing comes to relieve us of this drought. But there is nothing else I can do, and thus I continue to sing and pray. It has worked in the past, so why have the gods not heard my prayers? Has my power withered away with my body? Perhaps, but I must keep trying.

  
It is my duty as the priestess of this village.

  
It is all I have, and all I can do for the people.

  
For my daughters.

  
When I think of them, I am able to muster the strength and will to continue. I must keep trying, if nothing else so they may live on. Even if I die in the process, it will be worth it if they can live on.

  
The days have dragged on, each one blending into the next while the sun continues its merciless assault. Night is only a brief respite before the sun rises again, as it does day after day, and I could almost swear that I see Apollo glaring down upon us. What could we have done to wrong him thusly? Surely my prayers should please him? So why?

  
Why?

  
Why?

  
Why?

  
Why are we made to suffer? If not the adults, then why must the children suffer thusly? Surely they have done nothing wrong; they are merely children after all. Yet they suffer worse than the adults. Their bodies are frail and weak, susceptible to every ailment, so they suffer the most.

  
And so I continue to sing and pray.

  
I have gathered the people to help me, to consolidate our power and to hopefully please the gods with more prayers. Our dried lips taste of sand, and we have gotten used to the scorching pain in our throats. We sang many times, we prayed many times, even though we were tormented by despair many times. I imagine that Hell is much like this; a barren, sandy, sun-scorched wasteland, and no amount of water can ease the fire in your throat. The taste of despair firmly resting upon your tongue, a sandy, bitter taste.

  
Sometimes, when I quietly return home, I pass by the tavern, and I can hear the men laughing.

  
“That spring had already dried up long ago,” one said, gulping his drink greedily.

  
“But we still have more than enough wine,” another laughed.

  
The men in the bar have muddied eyes; they remind me of the reddened earth beneath our feet. I want to scold them, to tell them that their complacency will anger the gods and doom us, but I know that they would not listen, far more interested in the bottom of their mugs than anything a failure of a priestess like myself would ever have to say. And there, as I walk away, beneath the Milky Way they dance with Bacchus.

  
It seems the people’s hearts will be withering soon.

  
Is my song alone not powerful enough?

  
I enter my hut for the night, intent to sleep and regain just a bit of strength to resume tomorrow, when I see my two daughters, hands linked and bodies curled tight upon my bedroll. I want to cry, seeing them so at peace in their sleep, free of the nightmare that is their waking world, it is enough to bring me near to tears. They deserve to be healthy and happy. They deserve to have enough water to quench their thirsts. They deserve better than this.

  
And it is that thought that continues to spur me. It gives me the strength of will to continue my attempts day after day. Perhaps the villagers mock me, perhaps they berate me for my failures, but I don’t care. I will sing and pray until my very life withers away. I will do all that I can to save them all.

  
I press my cracked lips to my daughters’ foreheads, as gentle of a kiss as I can muster so as not to wake them, before I lay down to sleep with them. Blonde locks stir ever so slightly before they settle, and red-tipped locks curl closer to me. They remain at peace as I lay awake in torment, but that is the way it should be. Is it not the burden of the parents to suffer so that their children may be happy? And thus, I must keep trying.

  
I must keep singing.

  
I must keep praying.

  
I must keep believing.

  
I must keep believing that my efforts will not be in vain; that I will one day end this drought.

  
From that night onward, I begin to pray both during the day, and at night. I beseech the gods to grant us even a moment of mercy, to grant us just enough rain to quench our thirst.

  
O starry night, O light of Deneb, your embraces are unnecessary. O thunder, together with the rain, downpour onto the palms of my hands.

  
O starry night, O light of Deneb, disappear before the dawn. O thunder, together with the rain, pour down onto this body.

  
And yet my prayers continue to go unanswered, no matter which god I pray to. Were I not so devout, I may have given up much like the people, but the alternative is to simply give up and accept that this village and its people are doomed, and I cannot abide by that.

  
Though the adults may not deserve salvation for their complacency, the children do, and the children are whom I continue for.

  
Over and over and over and over.

  
I pray.

  
I sing.

  
I believe.

  
But not once can I despair. If I allow myself to give in to the despair that the adults taste heavy upon their tongue, if I allow myself to believe that the situation is hopeless, then there truly will be nothing left. I will have single-handedly sealed the fate of this village.

  
Early on in the drought, the elders had whispered of moving the village, but the children, the elderly, and the sick would not make the long journey to the next village. As far as the scout had seen, there was nothing for us but more of the same red earth, no matter where we went, so they decided that we would simply remain and wait.

  
They entrusted me with everything; with saving the village, with ending the drought, with returning the life to everyone’s eyes, and yet I cannot answer them. I have tried and tried and tried, and I have nothing to show for it.

  
Days blend into one another, weeks become months, and I can feel myself withering away, I can feel the power gone from my body. I am simply going through the motions, hoping that the shell of a ritual, the echo of a song, the whisper of a prayer will be enough to call down the rain.

  
“Summer. Summer, that’s enough. You need to rest.”

  
But I can’t.

  
I can’t rest.

  
I can’t.

  
Because if I rest, Ruby and Yang will surely wither away.

  
Kind, wrinkled hands try to stop me, but I brush them away. I cannot accept their misplaced kindness. Don’t they see that any break will be the end? Don’t they see that the moment I stop, there will be no hope for the village? For my daughters?

  
Ah, I think of their bright smiles, so brilliant and true despite their suffering. They spur me to continue. I must continue.

  
“Mom? Can you come to bed? Ruby had a nightmare.”

  
I cannot, my dear. For if I do, she will be tormented by that nightmare when dawn arrives. I cannot comfort you and your sister the way you deserve. I cannot hold you when you shiver and sniffle, and I cannot wipe away your tears when you cry. But everything I do is for you, even if it does not seem so. Even if you grow to hate me, I cannot stop. I must continue until the very last bit of my strength and vitality has left me, and even once my soul has departed, I will pray for you from the afterlife.

  
Yes, even if I die, I will continue to pray for your happiness.

  
I love you.

  
I love you and Ruby.

  
With all my heart I love you both.

  
Please, please understand that.

  
_I love you._

  
Yes, even as my strength failed me and my life drained away, even in those very last moments, I loved you both.

  
_I love you._


	2. Inori no Hate no Hitofuri no

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. Welcome to Inori no Hate no Hitofuri no (A Single Shower at the End of Prayer). This is Part II of the “Underneath the Too Sunny Sky” universe. A sequel song to the original is the inspiration for this chapter. Enjoy~!

The flowers have long-since withered underneath the sun. They tremble in the sandy wind, buds never blooming. It seems that spring is no longer a season in my village. I only remember flashes of greenery from when I was a small child. I remember the rain much the same; a flash of moisture hazy in my mind as the years have passed.

My memories of my mother are becoming much the same. She passed years ago, a tall, strong figure that blotted the sun from my sight, yet her smile was just as blinding. Even as a child I could tell she was straining herself, singing day after day, night after night, month after month, year after year. I can’t say how many times I heard my mother sing a prayer for rain, straining her body.

It went on and on, and I know she became a shell of who she once was, but even when her desperation to bring the rain made her mind fragmented and distant, I could tell she loved Ruby and I. When we finally buried her, I swore that I could hear a whisper of _“I love you”_ on the sandy wind.

Her prayers went unheard, even on her dying day.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t bitter about it.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t frustrated with the gods.

I would be lying if I said I was fine with all of this.

But other than Ruby, there is nobody I would share my feelings with, anyway. Perhaps the gods can see into my heart, dried out like my skin, but I don’t care. Let them see my true feelings. Let them see what I think of them. Sitting so high above the world they ignore the plights of their creations, it’s disgusting.

Yet I can’t hate them completely, because that feels like it would be an insult to my mother’s memory. I can only cry.

With our ardent supplications going unheard, even the human spirit of the villagers dried up and went to ruin. The men drowned themselves in their ale, the women doing their best to keep their children alive. But everything is hollow. Everyone is hollow.

Unable to stand staying in that stupid village, I decided to go on a journey far from my hometown in search of the Rain Princess, of whom I had once heard in an old tale my mother had told me before bed.

Perhaps it is idiotic. Perhaps I’m simply making a fool of myself. But, I don’t care. Anything would be better than waiting here for the embrace of Hades.

Perhaps I am chasing a fairy tale, but for Ruby I will chase anything. She is too weak now to make the journey with me, so I decided that I would skulk out in the dead of night, long after she has been tucked into bed with a kiss to her cheek.

I leave her a note, telling her of my plans and that I love her and will be back soon. Perhaps she will hate me for leaving her when she awakens, but it is a cross I will have to bear. If there is anything out there that will give her a chance at a better life, then I will not hesitate to use mine to get it.

_I love you, Ruby._

As planned, I leave in the dead of night, taking a small pack with a bit of food and a skin of water. I take a dagger with me, a memento of my late father, but I doubt it will be much use; the moment a beast sets sight upon me, I will be devoured with minimal resistance.

Still, despite the risks, I leave, and as I cross the sandy plains in the dead of night, I can feel the coolness of the air bring welcome relief. The moon seems to smile upon me, and I will take its blessings and channel them into strength.

Because there is little left in me.

Of course, I walk as far in the night as I can, never taking a drop from the water skin. I must conserve it for when my thirst is magnified by the heat of the day. The chilled air of the night will have to suffice for now.

The sun rises hours later, painting long shadows across the reddened earth. I can feel its heat, even this early in the day, but I ignore it. I have to ignore it. I have to keep pressing forward.

For Ruby.

The sun is high in the sky, and its heat beads sweat across my brow, in the palms of my hands, in the cracks in my feet. I can feel my clothes becoming soaked with sweat, but to take them off would be worse. The sun would peel away my skin and burn me alive, so I am forced to ignore the discomfort of my clothing.

Above, it feels as if the sun is laughing at me.

Laugh if you will, O burning sun! Please, let this dearly held wish lead me to the distant land where the rain dwells.

I do not pray to the sun, but to whoever will hear me. The Rain Princess, Apollo, Bacchus, anyone will do. Whoever can lead me to the distant land where the rain dwells is whom I pray to.

But even if they do not answer me, I have my memories.

Thus goes the ancient tale: At the foot of the green mountain, embraced by the fickle dew, lives the princess who brings the rain. If you cross the lime valley, told of in the ancient tale, surely you will come to the princess’s side, and surely she will grant your wish.

Perhaps it is foolish to place all my hopes in a fairytale told to me as a child, but it is the best chance I have, and thus I continue to walk.

It has been days, and I can feel the water skin is almost empty, but I have come this far, so I continue. Just a little bit further.

Just a little bit further.

A little bit further.

A little bit…

My voice has dried up from my prayers, and my feet hurt, but even so, I keep going.

And going.

And going.

I had lost track of time, of how long I have been on this journey; I only pay attention to the rise and fall of the sun and moon, my indication for when I can afford to drink water. It feels like it has been months, perhaps even years, but perhaps that is delirium speaking. I know my mind is struggling, but I cannot expend the energy to fix it, to rationalize, to make sense of everything.

All my energy must go to my journey.

It is a sudden change, as if a line was formed at the edge of the sand; green. An explosion of green. There is moisture in the air, the calls of animals and insects. There is suddenly so much noise and color. It would be overwhelming if I weren’t so excited.

But it is not over yet. I still have to find the Rain Princess. I have found the lime valley, now I must find the green mountain embraced by the fickle dew. Just a little bit further.

I am lucky in that my search for a mountain in a jungle that I find a river, and I drink greedily, and fill the water skin until it overflows. I want to bathe, but there will be time enough for that later. I refreshed myself, quenched my thirst, and now it is time to keep moving.

One would think it would be easy to find a mountain, but the thick, lush jungle makes sight into the distance or above difficult, but the protection from the shade and the plentiful water more than make up for this. It also makes food easier to find; animals abound unaware of the human predator that watches their every move.

If only the people could make this journey, I lament. Yet I barely made it this far walking nonstop; I cannot imagine how anyone less strong or healthy would be able to make it this far. It only reassures me that I will have to beg the Rain Princess for her power.

The air becomes thicker, a veil of air tinged with water. I finally arrived at a strange place. There is a cave, tendrils of greenery hiding it from plain sight and tinged with dew. This could be it!

I want to run inside with abandon, but I don’t want to be disrespectful to the one who could save Ruby, so I walk carefully, yet deliberately.

The cave widens, and seemingly glows ethereally, a blue tinge that reflects off the spring inside. In the middle of the spring is something of an island, a throne atop it. And a figure, with droplets trickling along her white hair. Her white dress, flowing and long, draped her lithe form, and golden bangles rested on her wrists and ankles.

The Rain Princess at last stood before me!

I drop to my knees, my forehead touching the ground and my hands splayed forward; a painting of total subservience and worship. I can feel her ice-blue eyes on me, but she says nothing, as if waiting for me to speak. I suck a breath and begin my supplication.

“O, Rain Princess! I hail from a land that has not seen rain for many a year. My people are dying, and I fear my sister has little time left. I beg of thee, send thine divine power to my village.”

I hear the sound of those bangles, as if she stood then, and I hear her voice, soft and sweet, yet clear and powerful, beckon me to look at her.

Her gaze was filled with great pity and compassion, but the goddess’s reason was merciless.

“O, young maiden hailing from a far, distant land. It is difficult for even a goddess such as I to send my power so far. I receive far fewer prayers than I once had, and my strength is but a shadow of what it once was.”

Perhaps my face fell, because she smiled briefly, a reassuring gesture as she began to dance across the water. The water was like land for her, she twirled and stepped about its surface, looking completely at peace. Her dress swirled around her, like a ripple along the surface, and her bangles jingled.

“However,” she said, dancing. “For the sake of your people, a small blessing.” The dew that had settled in her hair slid along her arms, down to her fingertips, and consolidated into a staff. She held it out to me, and I shakingly took it.

“This staff can show the paths of the water flowing within the earth. Even if rain does not fall in this distant land, at least the people’s lives and hearts may be watered.”

The waterways of joy in my heart filled to overflowing. Once again, I touch my head to the floor of her domain.

“O, Rain Princess, your blessing is more than I could ever have hoped. How may I ever repay you?”

She waves a hand, the clink of the bangles like bells in my ears. It reminds me of her dance that had been oh so short, and somehow it fills me with a sense of longing. “Is it not the duty of a Goddess to fulfill the wishes of her creations? Think nothing of it.”

I can’t help but to raise my head, shaking it. “We prayed to Apollo, to Bacchus, to anyone who would listen, and yet we received nothing. Not even a sign.”

She furrowed her brow, and I swore I could hear her click her tongue. “Apollo no longer heeds the prayers of the people, instead he simply does as he wishes. Bacchus as well is too absorbed in his dance to ease the plight of the ailing people.”

She hums and the sound is delightful; I long to hear more. “I suppose then it is no wonder why the prayers have dried with the hearts of the people; with no God or Goddess to answer them, there is little point in prayer.” She looks… _lonely_. “Perhaps the time for us has passed.”

“Not at all,” I nearly shout, and the intensity startles both her and myself. I rise to stand, and I am struck by how small the Rain Princess is. “Without this blessing you have bestowed upon me, my sister would be doomed to the embrace of Hades far too soon. Perhaps we do not need the other Gods and Goddesses, but we need _you,_ O Rain Princess. _I_ need you.”

She stares at me, stunned, and I suddenly feel heat rush to my cheeks. But I press forward. Perhaps reassurance is the very thing she wants in repayment. “If it is prayers that you lack, I will return to my village with your blessing in hand and praises upon my lips. They had doubted you existed, but this proves it, and it will restore their faith in you. You will receive prayers from my village most ardent.”

She regains her senses, and coughs into her hand once. The action is somehow endearing. “Thank you, O young maiden. Your faith is most pleasing.”

“It extends beyond faith, O Rain Princess. I owe you nothing less than my life. My life for the life of my sister’s, and the village as well. Perhaps it is inconsequential, but it is all I have to offer.”

Again, she waves it away with the jingle ringing in my ears. “Your life belongs to your village, does it not? You must return to them and restore a peaceful livelihood.”

I shake my head, and the action seems to bewilder her. “No, I will return to them with your blessing and praises and nothing more. My sister will be more than pleased to become a priestess just like our mother once had, and she will lead the village. She is far more forgiving than I.”

She tilts her head, the action filling my heart with a feeling foreign. She says nothing though, and I take that as an urging to continue. “The people of my village had given up, and the men had taken to drowning in their ale. They became complacent, and it only spurned my mother further and further until she ultimately passed on. I have become too embittered with them to return to what we once had.”

I kneel before her, and I watch her eyes follow my every move, and I somehow dare not breathe, lest the spell be broken. “I wish to offer the rest of my life to you. I wish to live out my remaining days in your service. O, Rain Princess, please allow me the honor of serving at your side.”

She hesitates, and I can see that she both wants to accept, and is afraid to. The internal struggle dancing in her eyes. “You have people who would miss your presence, do you not? What of them?”

“The only one who will truly miss me is my sister, but she will understand my decision, especially in that my decision will repay our savior.” I cannot tear my gaze away from her ice-blue eyes, but it seems to be a mutual struggle, as she is unable to look away from my own.

I take a chance, one that any other deity would surely smite me for, and I take her hands into my own. They are small, easily enclosed in my roughened palms, and they are cool, like the dew that she commands with grace.

“Please, O Rain Princess. Allow me to serve at your side. Allow me to remain with you. Allow me to offer to you my life, my faith, my love, and my gratitude.”

She looks stunned, and I feel somehow that I am the only one who has ever seen such a look upon her porcelain features. I feel lucky.

“You…” She shakes her head, as if to clear her thoughts. “’Your _love_?!’”

Ah, so she caught that part.

Perhaps it is presumptuous of me, but I suppose it would be best to confess.

“Indeed, O Rain Princess. I felt adoration well up within me the moment I laid eyes upon your glorious form. Your beauty is certainly unparalleled, by both humans and by Gods and Goddesses.” I speak from the heart now, and I can see her cheeks color a lovely shade of pink on her snowy skin.

“Even without the beauty my eyes are fortunate enough to behold, your heart is just as so! Such generosity and care! And the contempt for the other Gods who would ignore the plight of their creations is endearing! I would never offer myself to someone who had a detestable heart.”

I squeeze her hands, partially to strengthen my point, and partially because my skin longs for hers.

“So please, I beg of thee, O Rain Princess; please allow me to devote everything of my being to everything of yours. I promise that I will be with you until my dying breath, and even after, when my body returns to the earth, my spirit will always remain with you.”

She shivers, and I am unable to place where the action stems from, but from the hope in her eyes, I can sense it is something good.

“O young maiden, you are of age for marriage, are you not?”

“Indeed I am. I have been for years now.”

“Are you truly sure there is not another you would rather give your heart to?” Hope and fear dance in her eyes, and I cannot help but smile as I clear away that fear.

“Truly, O Rain Princess. There is no other, and I would not have it any different.”

She hesitates.

And hesitates.

And worries.

And weighs it all within her mind.

Finally, finally, her gaze solidifies, and I can see her decision plain as the day in her lovely eyes.

“If you are truly sure, then I will accept.”

I can feel my heart leap with wild abandon, and it is only with the full strength of restraint that I am able to coax my urge to embrace her into something more appropriate.

I kneel before her once more, then slowly, reverently, I place a chaste kiss to the back of her hand, the skin smooth and soft to the touch of my chapped lips. I am then surprised when I feel that same hand retract, before both come up to cup my face.

I stare, unblinking and unbreathing, before she presses a delicate, fleeting kiss to my lips. It is a moment of bliss, a feeling unlike any other, and I can feel a longing for more well up inside my body.

She pulls away, and she graces me with the most serene smile I have ever seen. “Go, return to your village, Yang of a distant, sun-scorched land. Bestow upon the people my blessing, and I will eagerly await your return.”

She collects some of the dew to her fingertips, and they consolidate into a single teardrop. She is careful then to remove my earring, and replaces it with her new blessing; it jingles like the bangles on her wrists and ankles.

“This blessing will keep your water skin full, and will guide you to where the rain and the water collects. As long as you have it, you shall never be parched.”

I almost want to cry, but they would be tears of joy, of gratitude, of _love._ I was right to offer my everything to the Rain Princess. She is a Goddess to be revered.

She is a Goddess to be loved.

And I intend to do just that when I return.

I make my way back to my too-sunny land. Though the journey may be long, it will not become a hardship.

_Please, wait for me just a little longer!_

And entirely in thanks to the Rain Princess and her blessings, the journey back to my village is far easier. I keep my brutal pace from my initial trip, but the constant presence of water allows me to retain my strength. The jewel that rests just below my ear is a pleasant coolness in the sweltering heat, and I touch my fingers to it often. I swear I can feel her presence inside it, and perhaps a part of her really is inside.

It is a comforting thought.

When I finally return to my too-sunny land, I am greeted with shocked whispers, and a jubilant hug from my dear sister. Triumphant, I raise the staff above my head and tell the people of my journey. I take particular joy in telling them of the Rain Princess.

“It is true,” I exclaim. “The legends of the Rain Princess are true! It is by her divine grace that I return with this blessing! Look upon it and rejoice!”

They stare in awe at the silver staff that catches the sun and refracts it onto the reddened sand. “This staff blesses us with the power to see the paths of water that flow within the earth! Even if rain does not fall, we will no longer be without water! But in return, we must offer our prayers and faith to her divine grace.”

I place the staff carefully in Ruby’s hands. “It will be your duty to lead the people to the path of faith once again. Ensure that their prayers reach the Rain Princess.” I say this with gravity, looking into her silver eyes that hold a sense of understanding and responsibility far beyond her years.

Ah, she will be a fine priestess, just as our mother once was.

“And what of you, Yang?”

I can tell that she already knows, but she has me say it so the villagers will understand. “I will return to the Rain Princess, so that I may offer the rest of my being to her in gratitude. I will not return, but if any of you have wish to visit me, or to offer your gratitude to her yourself, follow her legend to the green mountain and you shall find us.”

I give Ruby a final embrace, likely a bit too tight, but I doubt she minds. Then, a gentle kiss to her forehead before I leave my too-sunny village; a wave and a smile all that I leave behind.

When I return to her, she is pleased. I am baptized in the pool of water that surrounds her throne, then fitted with robes made of her power; the dew that created them is pleasantly cool on my skin, and my blessing jingles.

I am blessed.

I am blessed to have found the Rain Princess.

I am blessed for her to have been so kind.

I am blessed for her to have given me the blessing to save my people.

I am blessed for her to have saved my sister.

I am blessed for her to love me as she does.

_I love you._

_I love you, as well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it. Part I has a “B side” that will be coming soon. It will make more sense once it’s published. Until next time~!

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is a bitter pill to swallow, but there is a part II on the way. I hope you were able to enjoy it regardless. Until next time~!


End file.
